Bucky starts to grow old without realising it.
The years pass him by more quickly than usual, with small differences like greying hair and deepening lines on his face appearing out of the blue, and aches that not even the serum can remedy make themselves at home in his bones. The need to save the world or don the shield when Steve can't starts to die down until, before he knows it, the Earth hasn't needed saving for twenty years.
They've had twenty years of what Bucky can only describe as peace. He's hardly naïve enough to believe it'll last, but he's willing to bask in its glow for now.
His time as an Avenger seems like a half-forgotten dream. The frantic nature of Thanos's attack had been a devastating start with destruction occurring wherever one turned and the screams of civilians piercing his ears every waking hour, but in the end their combined efforts had managed to buy them a weak victory. Bucky had saved as many as he could, though nowhere near enough, and had aided Steve and T'Challa and Sam and so many others in the eradication of Thanos's rabid followers.
He can still remember sitting in stunned silence along with everyone else when the news came through that Stark was gone, having taken Thanos with him, and though deep down he'd known it would likely be final this time, he'd still spent weeks waiting for Tony to magically come back.
A strange routine developed after that. Now and again some new creatures would land, trying to take the world for themselves only to realise how big a mistake that was. Either that or remnants of Hydra would crawl from the woodwork only to be shot down into the hell in which they belonged. When major attacks weren't occurring, Steve, Bucky and Sam would take turns as Captain America whenever the need arose or would train the new recruits at the Avengers base, constantly preparing for the next fight.
Bucky spent most of those days waiting to die. As the years passed and his retirement finally hit, all he could wonder was why it hadn't happened already. Tony had gone out in a literal blaze of glory as intended while Bucky continued to drag himself through each day, forced to wonder if his purpose had been fulfilled yet, and if it had, why he hadn't dropped dead the instant the world stopped needing him. It had taken him years to stop waiting to be reunited with Death and to enjoy each day as it came, and even then, sometimes the knowledge of that eventual meeting still comes to him in dreams.
It can't be long now. His serum has sustained him for far longer than he could ever have asked for, but he knows that his age is starting to defy it. Its lesser quality is evident in the way Steve looks ten years younger than him rather than just one, and looking in the mirror shows a man with greying hair and permanent laughter lines around the eyes, distracting from the dark shadows which also refuse to leave. Being old is hardly something he minds though. He never expected to get this far, and though he's technically gotten there through cheating, it's been a long time since he last died.
Deep down, he knows the next time will be the last. He made his peace with that long ago, from the moment he hung up the shield for good and dedicated his days to living quietly with Steve.
He doesn't expect Death to come to him first.
She turns up on an otherwise ordinary morning. Bucky finishes pouring two cups of coffee, whistling some lost song from long ago while keeping an ear out for Steve lumbering from his room, only to turn and find that he's no longer alone.
If Death is beautiful in her own domain, on Earth she's breathtaking. Her golden eyes, smooth dark skin and silky green dress seem like they'd be more at home on a throne in some distant palace rather than standing in his modest lounge, and her warm smile lights a fire within him that he's only ever experienced while surrounded by a golden sea. Despite the implications of her appearance, he finds that he's happy to see her after all this time, though part of him wishes he could be as timeless as she.
"Is this it?" he asks abruptly, the question surprising even himself, but the sight of her has aroused a suspicion that grows more uncomfortable the longer he dwells on it. "Am I dead?"
"Not if you don't want to be," she replies, as annoyingly cryptic as always, before inviting herself over to the dining table and taking a seat. Her head turns, allowing her to take in the view beyond the window which looks out over the shimmering ocean, and the sight seems to calm her as she closes her eyes and smiles. "I'm merely here to visit an old friend."
A huff of laughter escapes him at the absurdity of that statement. However, considering he's been familiar with her for most of his life, he supposes she too is one of the oldest friends he has. Only Steve can possibly compare.
Coffee in hand, he wanders over to the table himself, trying to hide the limp that comes with the ache in his joints, and settles on the chair opposite her. He briefly wonders how he'll explain their ethereally beautiful guest to Steve should the man make an appearance, but considering it's only seven in the morning, the man will likely be too tired to care.
"So, does this mean I still haven't done enough?" Bucky dares to ask. He had hoped that everything he'd done throughout his life had been enough to justify his continued survival, or at the very least, allow him to live out his retirement in peace. The idea that some vital purpose still lies ahead is enough to have exhaustion crushing his chest.
"You've done more than enough. Your purpose was fulfilled years ago and the world is better for it," she says, and his fear seems to dissipate as her voice takes on the softness of a consoling mother. A moment passes before she gives off a lovely laugh, the sound reminding him of a distant childhood in Brooklyn. "All you had to do was save the world."
It's Bucky's turn to laugh then. Hearing the words plainly make the situation seem even more ridiculous, despite how fighting Thanos and Hydra and everyone else who targeted humanity had simply become instinct in the end. Perhaps it's for the best that Death was never upfront with him on the subject before; he can only imagine how he would have dealt with the weight of such expectations as a twenty-something whose only wish was to go home and hug his sister and best friend. Even now it doesn't seem real that such a role fell upon his shoulders, especially when it was one shared with people like Steve and Tony and Sam who all seemed better suited.
There's no use questioning it anymore though. What's done is done, and the world's still standing. If it's true that he had some small part in that then he thinks it might have been worth some of the pain.
"There's something I don't get though," he says, after several quiet moments of simply watching the waves crash against the sand. Death turns towards him with an eyebrow raised, waiting for him to elaborate. "It's been a long time since I stopped fighting. More than twenty years."
He has to pause at that because the idea that he's been able to claim twenty quiet years suddenly seems unbelievable. "Why am I still here? Shouldn't I have dropped dead the minute I'd done everything I was supposed to?"
"Truth be told, I could have taken you then had I wanted to," she explains, brushing a stray curl behind her ear as if she's discussing something as mundane as the weather rather than the intricacies of his existence. "There was no longer anything stopping you from moving on. But I didn't."
The words surprise him. To know that his time has effectively been up for years is not something he can process, even after everything he's seen. "Why?"
The question is one she seems to expect, but she hesitates before answering it. Her hands clasp together and her posture straightens, as if she's transforming into the wizened old being she truly is rather than the youthful beauty she appears to be, but even then it seems as if she's searching for a certainty that simply isn't there. There's something oddly human about her trying to find the right words while sitting in his home, something vulnerable, and for a moment Bucky forgets just how old she is.
When she does meet his gaze again and opens her mouth to speak, he thinks he sees wetness clinging to those golden eyes.
"I've known you since before you could walk," she says, not seeming to notice his surprise at the fact that there's at least one death he doesn't remember. "I've watched you grow over the years; seen you lose and endure so much. And yet you always remained kind. So I let you stay a little longer. I thought you deserved some time to be happy."
There's little Bucky can do or say upon hearing that. Sitting in stunned silence is about the extent of his capabilities. Death has always been kind to him, certainly, but he's always been aware that she is an ancient being with a singular purpose. Granting him more time even when the universe has no more use for him feels like something he hasn't earned, and yet he's grateful for it all the same.
That extra time has given him the chance to grow old and develop a somewhat normal life that once seemed so unreachable. It's given him more time with Steve without the baggage of the Winter Soldier hanging over them; his triggers long gone and his memories as whole as they're ever likely to be. To know all of that is due to the woman sitting before him feels like a debt he'll never be able to repay, though he knows she'll ask nothing of him.
"So does this mean I can go anytime?" he asks, not sure if he really expects an answer. She told him once that the world usually adapts and moves on whenever someone dies before their time; it is likely it simply does the same thing when someone lives longer than intended. For all he knows, the universe, or whatever decides all this, will simply claim him as he sleeps and that will be that.
She has that look in her eyes again when he raises his head; that playful glint as she reads his thoughts as easily as he would a book. "Within reason. Not even you are immortal," she says with a soft laugh, and he finds himself smiling too. "But your time is no longer fixed. I could take you now if you wanted me to."
The offer seems to make his heart sink into his stomach, even with the knowledge that it is merely theoretical. It's strange, he thinks, to be scared of dying again after all this time.
It seems ridiculous that after almost one-hundred and fifty years of life, with far more of them drenched in pain than he'd like to admit, he wants more time. Just a little. Enough to spend a few more mornings eating breakfast and having mundane conversations with Steve; to read more books and study more languages and take one final walk by the sea, watching the sun's reflection dance atop the waves. In spite of the tiredness and the creak in his bones, the loss of the responsibility that constantly tugged him back to life has left him with a heavenly weightlessness in his heart, and he hopes to be able to indulge in that for a while yet.
Besides, leaving now means leaving Steve. He's done many cruel things in his life but he's unwilling to go that far.
He doesn't need to say the words for her to understand his wishes. A small smile pulls at her face at the exact moment he makes the decision to refuse her.
Without a word, she rises to her feet and seems to float towards him, her form weightless and fluid even here, before stopping by his side. Bucky closes his eyes as her warm hands cup his face and he feels her rest a gentle kiss upon his forehead, like his mother used to do when he couldn't sleep. The familiarity of the sensation has tears pricking his eyes, but he holds them back and tries to smile as that warm voice washes over him one last time.
"Until we meet again, child," she says, a sadness in her voice even though he imagines he'd find her smiling if he opened his eyes. "Have a wonderful life."
He doesn't need to open his eyes to know that she's gone.
The warmth that filled him mere seconds ago seems to fade, but he keeps his eyes shut and clings to the ghost of her presence for as long as he can. He's only vaguely aware of the muffled sounds of activity in the next room or the fact that his coffee must be growing cold, and when he finally hears Steve utter his name he nearly jumps out of his skin.
Steve is standing by the kitchen counter, studying him with concerned blue eyes, and it's only then that Bucky realises that the tears he tried so desperately to hold back are sliding down his cheek. The room seems so normal now, even as her presence clings to it like an echo, and he doesn't know what to feel anymore. Steve's growing concern is almost palpable in the air, and sure enough, it isn't long before he's wandering over to Bucky and kneeling beside him, reaching out a hand to wipe away a stray tear.
"Hey," he says, his kind blue eyes ageless even as they rest in a face which is growing ever more lined. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Bucky says, and he finds that it's the truth. He reaches forward and pulls Steve into a firm hug, laughing softly as the man yelps in surprise before laughing himself, and he finally lets go of every drop of tension that has followed him throughout the years.
Later on today, he and Steve will be able to go on a walk together by the sea and watch as dogs run into the waves before returning to soak their owners. They'll be able to come home and watch an old movie together, or Bucky will read while Steve adds another drawing to his sketchbook, and they'll be able to do the same thing tomorrow and the day after for as long as they want. They can return to Wakanda together and pay a visit to their old friend in his palace, or head to D.C. to drop in on Sam, or even go on a trip to Europe now that they're no longer using it as a place to hide.
The options are endless. They may not be as elaborate as saving the world or defending their country in battle, but they're reasons to live all the same. The day will come when he's ready to be reunited with Death and everyone he's loved and lost, but for now he's perfectly content to live out his days with Steve by his side. Death can wait.
They pull apart eventually and Bucky wipes the drying tears from his face before putting on a reassuring smile. It must not be entirely convincing, seeing as Steve quickly asks, "Are you sure nothing's wrong?" even though his worry seems to have lessened, but Bucky knows deep down that he truly is okay.
It's the first time in years that he can say that and mean it.
It doesn't take long for the tension to melt away and for Steve to make them both a fresh, hot cup of coffee. Bucky wonders if he should tell him about his visitor, but decides against it quickly enough.
Maybe one day he'll be upfront about everything, including the fact that Death has met Steve too and that the next time will be their last, but he decides that can wait for now. He's content with lightly sipping his coffee and discussing plans for the day and watching the way the sun shining through the window makes Steve look more carefree than usual. There'll be time for deeper conversations and life-affirming revelations later.
They have all the time in the world after all.
A/N - So we've finally reached the end, one chapter later than expected. Once again, thank you so much to everyone who has read this, as well as to everyone who provided feedback! I hope you enjoyed these last two chapters :)